


let's not waste it feeling wrong

by prettyisak



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: (quite a bit of angst), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Character Death, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, but listen if you read the prompt you'll understand why it's necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:01:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14763989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyisak/pseuds/prettyisak
Summary: Isak has always been skeptical of the soulmark.Instead of your soulmate's first words to you written on your skin, it's the last words you ever hear them say, so you don't know who your soulmate is until you lose them.





	let's not waste it feeling wrong

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!! 
> 
> so this is based on the prompt 'instead of your soulmate's first words to you being written on your skin, it's the last words you ever hear them say, so you don't know who your soulmate is until you lose them' and i wanted to write this because i liked the idea that even in a universe where Isak and Even aren't meant to be together, they still find their way to each other (even though it kind of sets things up for potential angst but y'know)
> 
> title is from 'dear happy' by dodie ft. thomas sanders
> 
> enjoy

Isak has always been skeptical of the soulmark.

For as long as he can remember, his mother has always told him that when he meets his soulmate, he will just _know_. Supposedly, there’s a faint kind of pulling sensation that can be felt whenever you’re around your soulmate—but Isak knows this is an old legend that has without a doubt been twisted and changed since people first began to realise what the soulmark was, something that people probably _think_ they feel rather than _actually_ feel; a psychological response to years of social conditioning, years of thinking it’s what you’re supposed to feel. Of course, many people don’t feel this ‘pull’, and Isak is sure to remind whoever he’s arguing with about the concept of the soul bond of this point. 

If you don’t know who your soulmate is until they say the words that are embedded on your skin right before they leave you, how do you truly know that they were your soulmate? They would have almost positively _seen_ your soulmark with their own eyes, so how does one know that the person they thought was their soulmate is not just simply saying the words branded on their partner’s skin simply because they feel like they should?

Isak’s mother definitely believes in the soul bond—has lived through it and still bares the scars to prove she did so. The words written on the inside of her wrist, running up along the vein that leads to her ring finger, look so worn down and yet so delicate still, something between an ugly smudge and a graceful piece of art. _I’ll see you in the morning_ , they read, the edges worn and murky. 

The night Isak’s dad left, Isak could vividly remember him telling both his ten year old son and his frail wife that he would see them in the morning. They had thought that he was heading out to the office, and it was a believable enough excuse—seeing as the exact event had happened countless times before, considering he often worked the night shift—that Isak and his mother had barely bat an eyelid, save for the quick glance his mother sent his father and her body tensing up apprehensively in a reflex reaction as he walked out of the door. Instead, they remained gazing steadfastly at the television, Isak because he hadn’t wanted to miss another second of the programme they were watching, and Marianne because she needed the distraction. But when he didn’t return the next morning, or the morning after that—or any of the following mornings—both Isak and Marianne had known that they wouldn’t be seeing Terje again.

It was the first time Isak remembered feeling disgust when looking at his soulmark, rather than the usual underlying excitement he had grown to associate with it. 

At first, Isak had thought that he felt so wary of the soul bond because of what it did to his mother. The words she adorned on her dainty wrist had bought her so much anxiety over her lifetime that Isak sometimes thinks that they were the main culprit for the worst of her mental health issues. She had had to hear the dreaded words that were tattooed on her skin more times in her life than she could count and it was clear that it never got easier to do so. Over the years, particularly those after she had married Isak’s father and she had to endure hearing the words almost every day, it was clear that the stress the mark was causing her was really beginning to wear her down. She’d often experience panic attacks, clawing at the words written on her delicate skin whenever Terje said those words (which was all too often to be an accidental slip up on his father’s part; Isak couldn’t help the resentment he felt towards the man when he thought of all the times he had told Marianne the exact words she had always feared to hear, knowing full well that they were written on the inside of her wrist) that Isak would have to pull her out of, kicking and screaming, and not usually leaving without something to show for it, more often than not a black eye or bruised shoulder.

Isak believed this excuse much more strongly than he had his previous one; the mental breakdown his mother had suffered through when, after three days of cold silence form her husband, she was forced to accept that he was not coming back, that he had left her, and that he was in fact her soulmate, was so horrendous that Isak doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to fully push away the hatred he feels for the bond; though he thinks that maybe it could be (at least a little bit of) misplaced anger at his father for leaving not only his mentally vulnerable wife, but also his young son who had a lifetime ahead of him to grow up in, but instead had to do it in a few short months as a result of his own father’s selfishness.

But after a few tiring and painful years of Isak trying to convince his mother to get help, she finally gave in. It was at this point that Isak realised that his second excuse was no longer completely valid; and though he tried to hang on to the weak tendrils holding the explanation together, he knew it wasn’t fair to blame his mothers mental illness on the mark anymore (though, he was sure that it certainly didn’t _help_ her deteriorating mental state over the years, so he allowed himself the slight—but frustratingly unfulfilling—satisfaction of placing part of the blame on the mark). The doctors explained to him how his mother’s distress was a result of not enough of the right chemicals being released in her brain—a concept that seemed so foreign to a young and naive Isak, yet simultaneously incredibly fascinating—and how there was a way to help her, even if it would be a difficult journey to get her to the place she needed to be. 

When he had gone to school the next day, he’d made a special trip to the library during his lunch period and checked out a few books on mental health. He read them to pass the time as his mother slept, worn out after her episode. He read about the causes of mental health issues, the correlation between them and the soul bond. He found that the bond had little effect on actually being the source of the illness, but that there were still ongoing studies to try and find out if it had any effect on either helping or hindering the person’s illness. Isak wistfully thought of his mother, and decided then and there that he couldn’t blame this mark any longer (at least, for the time being—he liked _fact_ , so until there was definitive scientific proof that there was an actual correspondence between the two; he decided that his previous justification for his hatred towards the bond couldn’t be trusted) for his mother’s illness—in fact, he came to the conclusion that there was nowhere to place blame because it wasn’t really anyone’s fault. 

After that excuse had been washed down the drain, Isak decided that it was actually because he knew his soulmate was almost certainly not a girl; they were not going to be who his parents wanted them to be—and more dauntingly; he wasn’t going to be who they wanted him to be. But after years of fighting to break free of the closet, and _finally_ coming out to his mother relatively unharmed, Isak feels like that excuse doesn’t work for him, anymore. In fact, it only made him wish to meet his supposed soulmate more than he ever had—simply so he could have the opportunity to introduce them to his mother, who he had only grown closer to after his coming out. (It might also help to make the conversation between him and his friends easier when he finally works up the courage to tell them, too.)

Sometimes, Isak thinks that he doesn’t believe in the soul bond simply because of pure jealousy. As he grew up and saw more and more people getting together with someone who made them happy, convinced that they’d found their soulmate, he couldn’t help but feel bitter that he just couldn’t seem to feel the same connection that they did. No matter how hard he tried to find someone he might like, he just couldn’t do it. He went to parties and hooked up with different girls (and on one or two _very_ drunken occasions: boys) in a vain attempt to feel a _connection_ , a reason.

He watched as his friends grew up with beautiful, poetic (and oftentimes, cheesy) words embellishing their wrists; phrases that read _I’ll love you forever_ , and _We’ll be together in infinite universes_ (that one in particular was one he was insanely envious of: _he_ was the one who had a love for science, for space, for parallel universes—why couldn’t he get something as sweet as that?). Meanwhile, he tried desperately to hide the words scrawled on his own wrist, words he had come to despise over the lifetime of having to look at them as they grew along with his body, stretching to form, in Isak’s opinion, an ugly mess of letters that were nowhere near as beautiful or aesthetically pleasing as the calligraphy that seemed to be lovingly composed on every other person’s skin. Words writing a message that he loathed to ever hear.

_I don’t want you._

Maybe, after all this time of deflection, Isak has finally come to accept that the real reason for his abhorrence towards the soulmark is because he truly detests his own. But just because he’s accepted the horrible words within himself doesn’t mean that he’s willing to share them with anyone else. Instead, he chooses to share another part of himself during his exploration with internal peace. He comes out to most everyone by kissing a boy in the main room of the party they’re at—rather than his usual hiding place of any room with a locked door—just as he would have usually done a girl, before disappearing into the bathroom hand-in-hand with said boy and coming out with a smug smile on his face.

The boys’ faces are borderline hysterical, and Isak would have probably laughed if he weren’t concentrating so hard on putting up the confident front he was attempting to display. When Magnus lets out a relieved sigh, patting Isak and on the shoulder and thanking him for giving the rest of them a better chance with the girls, Isak feels his own shoulders drop in what could only be described as a strange sense of euphoric calmness. He lets each of the boys pull him into a hug, tell him that they’re proud of him, before their conversation moves on to their usual banter. 

He doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

  


* * *

  


Not long into the start of their second year at Nissen, Isak’s chest feels lighter than it ever has before. He’s now not only out to his mother, but also to everyone else who knows him; he no longer feels like an imposter in his own skin, like the fake ‘ladies man’ everyone had thought he was. His chest still weighs with occasional stress when his mother relapses, and this low level of anxiety he’s become accustomed to is almost constantly thrumming just underneath his skin—but he feels _good_. For the first time in his life, he feels like things would work out—that being said, the feeling quickly disintegrated every time he caught sight of the words on the inside of his arm, but he was used to distracting himself from that now, whenever he could.

There are only three people in Isak’s life who had ever seen his soulmark: his mother, for obvious reasons; Jonas, because they’d grown up together, had shared each and every worry they had ever experienced (for the most part) when they were young—though that particular topic of conversation was few and far between at this stage in their lives; and Eskild, who had seen it by complete chance after he took Isak in when he found him drunk in the middle of the night the first time his mother had ever relapsed. In his despair, Isak had completely forgotten to cover up the words that had bought him so much disdain, so much shame, over the years, and as a result: Eskild had seen the words Isak disliked so greatly. Isak’s glad that these are the three people who know his biggest secret; he trusts them with anything and everything.

Whenever he is out in public—whether it be at school or at the supermarket—Isak always ensures that his soulmark is covered with a hoodie or a shirt sleeve or, occasionally, some make up Eskild applies before he leaves. He usually opts for the hoodie, though, as it’s the easiest option—though he wishes he didn’t feel the need to cover up at times like right now when the weather isn’t particularly cold and he feels just the wrong side of too warm in his hoodie all day, sitting in the crowded cafeteria for lunch. 

“Hey! Guys,” Magnus calls excitedly from across the room, and Isak shuts his eyes at the sheer embarrassment of having someone shout across the lunch hall towards a group that he was sitting currently with. When Magnus gets to the table, smiling sheepishly at Isak, he gestures to the person who was somewhat nervously following behind him, and continues. “Guys, this is Even. He’s just joined today. He’s a third year and he’s really cool.”

The moment Isak’s eyes properly set on the person who Magnus has escorted over towards their table, he feels like he finally understands. He finally understands what so many people have claimed to feel when they meet their soulmate, because surely the feeling inside his chest right now is the exact pull he had once found entirely ridiculous, completely inconceivable. It’s clear that Even feels something, too, if the way his eyes immediately dart to Isak, searching his face with a look of utter bewilderment lurking behind the blue of his eyes, is anything to go by. Either Even feels the indescribable pull just like Isak does; or Isak has something on his face that can’t help but draw attention to itself. Either way, Isak feels a light blush rise to his cheeks, his lips turning up slightly to smile at Even timidly. 

“Hey,” Even says to the group, but Isak feels like it’s being said to him, and to him only. The boys enthusiastically greet Even back with a _hey bro_ or a _what’s up, man_ , but Isak sticks with a simple, “Hi.” It feels like the start of something—and though Isak can’t currently figure out what the ‘something’ actually is, he knows that it feels like it could be something good, exciting.

“Sit down, bro!” Magnus pushes Even down into the seat across from Isak’s before taking the one next to it himself. Even’s eyes leave Isak’s only briefly in order to politely greet the other boys properly as he stumbles slightly into his seat, before they flick back to meet Isak’s again in an all-consuming gaze.

“Do you two know each other, or something?” Isak hears Jonas ask, and it’s at this point that he realises that he probably looks a little strange holding a staring contest with a virtual stranger, and he feels the blush that had recently occupied his cheeks darken slightly.

Isak shakes his head, “No, we’ve never met before.”

“It kind of feels like we have, though, right?” Even asks, and the confidence with which he says it astounds Isak. He longs to have that kind of boldness around people he’s known for years, let alone people he’s only just met. Nevertheless, Isak finds himself smiling shyly, nodding his head once as he agrees.

“Yeah, it kind of does.” 

The smile that breaks out onto Even’s face is so large that Isak would think that it must be hurting him—if his own face wasn’t reflecting the exact expression he was currently dumbfounded by. 

As their lunch period progresses, Isak finds his smile becoming shyer as he gets to know Even a bit more. In Isak’s eyes, he’s absolutely perfect; everything Isak has ever wished for ever since he dropped his distrust towards love, accepted that it was what it was—and that’s after less than an hour of talking to him. He finds himself starting to hope that this indescribable _pull_ he is feeling for Even truly is the soul bond, and he thinks that that’s the most telling thing about Even. He makes Isak feel hopeful. The warmth that Even radiates lets Isak know that the things he’s feeling right now are okay, because he’s not the only one.

They become close friends quickly, after that first meeting, an unexplainable sense of trust and safety allowing them to tell each other things they wouldn’t dream of telling anybody else. They try to meet at least once a day—whether it be in school at lunch with the boys, or at their weekly study session (because even though Even is a year above Isak, they find that studying together makes the work actually kind of _fun_ , in a way that doesn’t make sense to even them), or at one of their houses watching movies. 

The boys joke about how they hope their soulmates, when they find them, feel as right as Isak and Even do, and even though they haven’t properly talked about the idea of being each others soulmate, yet, Isak and Even share a secret smile with a sparkle in their eyes.

  


* * *

  


After one of their weekly study sessions at the library, Isak finds himself once again walking back to his own apartment with Even by his side, listening to him talk excitedly and gesture animatedly as he tells Isak about the newest ideas for a film he’s thought of.

Despite having an infinitesimal interest in film—at least, the behind-the-scenes part; he’s personally more interested in just watching the actual storyline unfold rather than the logistics behind it—Isak finds himself utterly enchanted by the things Even’s telling him. He takes notice of each emotion he can hear in Even’s voice, watches as his eyes brighten and lips stretch into a smile, tries to fight back his own grin when Even nearly walks into a pole or an innocent bystander as he falls further into the utter captivation he feels when he so much as thinks about film. 

Isak thinks he could listen to Even talk all day, regardless of the subject matter.

As Isak lets both himself and Even into the apartment, watching as Even toes his shoes off, leaving them next to his backpack in their usual place beside the front door, he can’t help the warmth he feels growing within his chest at how they go about this routine with such ease. They’re both so comfortable around each other, in each other’s space, despite having known each other for only a few short months—Isak can’t help but think that it surely shouldn’t feel so natural to be this way so soon.

He has almost convinced himself that maybe, just maybe, the soul bond is trustworthy, and maybe, just maybe, Even is the person who will one day say the words he has always thought he never wanted to hear—but then again, he supposes, nobody _really_ wants to hear the words their soulmate is destined to tell them; after all, they are the last words you will ever hear your soulmate say, and the thought of never seeing his soulmate again is almost as bad as hearing them say the cruel words Isak has had to live with his whole life. Especially if his soulmate does turn out to be Even. 

(He’s almost positive it’s Even.)

They make their way into Isak’s room, Isak following Even because Even frequents Isak’s home so often that he is more than confident in making himself comfortable. Isak can’t help but wonder if Even finds it as easy to be around another person as it is when he’s in Isak’s company—it’s not unlike Even to be sure and confident, always friendly and exuding such a calm comfortableness, so Isak can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the fact that Even might feel this content with a person who is not Isak. Isak wants to believe that, actually, Even feels the greatness, the importance of this _thing_ between them just as much as Isak does himself.

They settle down onto Isak’s bed together, laying side by side and staring up at the ceiling. They often find themselves like this: relaxing in various positions around whichever room they’re in, surrounded by a content silence that neither of them feel the need to break. Of course, the silence does eventually disperse—whether it be because of a rumbling stomach which will inevitably lead to them attempting to make something (hopefully less disastrous than their previous ventures in cooking) in the kitchen together, or a heavy sigh that leads to the question _‘What’s up?’_ followed by an overly passionate rant about whatever topic is on their minds. Isak’s favourite, though, is when they just get bored of sitting in each others silence, deciding that they’re together in that moment and they want to spend that time wisely (Isak just wants to hear Even’s voice, mostly). They’ll fall into a natural conversation, asking each other questions and telling each other answers they probably wouldn’t dare to tell anyone else.

Even breaks the silence, tonight. “Can I ask you a question?” He says, turning onto his side to look at Isak properly as Isak does the same. “It’s kind of personal though, so it’s okay if you don’t want to answer.”

Isak furrows his eyebrows in an intrigued kind of confusion. “Go ahead,” He replies with a small encouraging smile. 

“I just realised that I’ve seen all of the other boys’ soulmarks, but… I haven’t seen yours?” He says quietly, licking his lips nervously. For once in his life, Isak doesn’t feel the all too familiar apprehension he usually feels when the topic of soulmarks comes up. He feels like, as long as it’s Even asking, he could answer any question about his own mark with far less anxiety than usual. He meets Even’s eyes and smiles reassuringly, letting him know that the question wasn’t too much.

“I’ve never liked my soulmark,” He starts, and feels a strange sense of pride when he hears his voice strong and certain, unlike the hoarse shock he usually deflects with when talking about this topic. “It says something that’s always made me feel kind of shit, to be honest, so I usually just cover it up so other people don’t feel sorry for me, I guess?” 

Even nods like he understands, and Isak feels like he does.

“If I show you mine, will you show me yours?” Even asks. “You can say no if you want.”

But for some reason, Isak doesn’t find himself wanting to say no. Instead, he wants to share this piece of himself with Even, he wants to show Even that he trusts him with everything—not just his thoughts on various films or social constructs. He nods with far fewer nerves than he had previously been accustomed to feeling.

“If you go first,” He whispers, and Even smiles kindly as he begins to undo the watch hiding the inside of his wrist.

Even’s soulmark is both heartbreaking and uplifting in it’s existence. 

_I’ll see you again._

Isak doesn’t want to imagine Even’s soulmate telling him ‘I’ll see you again’ only for those to be the last words Even ever hears them say—particularly if Isak’s suspicions are correct and he is the one who ends up telling Even those words. He doesn’t want to break Even’s heart, ever. But, then again, Isak thinks that it would fit himself so well; if it were him saying it, he knows he would be telling Even that they will meet again, in another life, in another universe. And that’s an idea he can live with.

When Even pushes the sleeve of Isak’s hoodie up his arm, his fingers moving gently over his skin, twisting his wrist around so he can read the words that are written there, Isak feels the heaviness that he hasn’t experience in a while return full force. The oxygen in his lungs freezes, the heart pumping it around his body pauses, his skin tingles as he closes his eyes and hopes that Even won’t think the words are as horrible as Isak once thought. 

“I don’t want you,” Even reads, and for the first time in his life, Isak thinks that the words that are scribbled upon his wrist are beautiful. Even made them sound like a promise, like he actually meant _I need you_. It makes Isak feel special in the best of ways, making him rethink every bad connotation he had ever come up with when he looked at the words on his skin. Like maybe, just maybe, they could mean something more; something omnibenevolent and hopeful, rather than the hostility he had previously associated it with. 

Isak’s eyes open slowly, reluctantly, as if trying to protect himself from a threat even though he knows there isn’t truly one there, a futile attempt to soften the blow. He lets his eyes follow Even’s arm up from his hand—the hand that’s holding Isak’s wrist so gently, his pale skin complimenting Isak’s so perfectly—to his shoulder, up his neck that is angled in such a way that it’s presenting the smooth expanse of skin in a way that makes Isak want to bury his head in it and breathe him in, all the way up to meet the piercing blue eyes that are looking so kindly back at Isak that Isak feels his heart grow.

Even smiles softly, and Isak feels the corners of his lips lift almost instantaneously in a reflex action. He gently shakes Even’s hand off of his wrist, and instead takes hold of it and places it on his waist. Even instantly pulls Isak in closer, bringing his other hand to press lightly into the small of Isak’s back, pulling him ever closer to his body. Isak lifts his own arms up over Even’s shoulders, his hands burying themselves in Even’s hair, his eyes staring—unwavering—at Even’s soft, pink lips; watching as his tongue darts out to wet them, as his mouth drops open slightly in anticipation. Isak isn’t sure who leans in first; thinks it’s a combination of the both of them.

Their lips meet sweetly, gently, hesitantly at first, and they pull back, looking into each others dilated pupils with so much adoration that it’s almost suffocating. Isak lets one of his hands fall down to cup the back of Even’s neck, both of them breathing heavily into each others spaces, before he pulls him back into another searing kiss.

Their lips meet again and again, their hands running over every part of each other that they can reach, the desperation to _feel_ all of each other strong. They kiss for what feels like hours—all sense of the outside world gone, their only focus on each other, their lips, their hearts. They eventually find themselves laying down on Isak’s bed again, facing each other once more, their kisses slowly becoming softer, sweeter than the feverish trance they were under just moments before. 

They lay like that for a long time, gazing into each others eyes, wrapped around each other and sharing the air between them. Isak smiles, and when Even smiles back, his eyes bright and cheeks warm, Isak feels like he has just proven his intuition right. Even has to be his soulmate.

“Do you think there’s a world out there where soulmates don’t exist?” Even asks into the quiet of the room a few moments later. Isak can both feel and hear his steady heartbeat pumping firmly beneath his head where it rests on Even’s chest, and can’t help but think that even if there is a universe out there where soulmates aren’t a real concept, there’s not one place in any universe where he and Even don’t find each other.

“Yes, I do,” Isak whispers into Even’s skin, his voice calm and sure. “But I think that we find each other in every universe, regardless of whether greater powers like fate or destiny have any impact whatsoever.” 

“Every universe?” Even asks, pressing a kiss to Isak’s temple. Isak can feel the smile on Even’s face, and it makes a content feeling flood through his body.

“Infinite ones,” He replies.

“Infinite universes. I like the sound of that,” Even whispers, pulling Isak closer to his chest—if that were even possible. 

“So do I,” Isak whispers, pressing a soft kiss onto Even’s chest, tightening his own arms around the older boy as they sink further into a comfortable state that beckons them closer. Isak is more than happy to enter this serene realm, so long as it’s with Even.

  


* * *

  


When Isak and Even have sex for the first time, Isak feels like he has just struck on the confirmation that their bodies just _had_ to have been made for each other. They fit together so perfectly, in a way that makes it not unbelievable that their souls might have been one, once. They treat each other with the utmost care, and even though it’s not Isak’s first time, it feels like it is. It’s all-encompassing, full of love and tenderness, and Isak feels nothing but grateful to the universe when he thinks of how they ended up there in the first place.

When Isak and Even move in together, they have a long discussion about the responsibilities that would come with it. Even asks Isak if he’s sure he’s ready to deal with Even’s mental illness all twenty four hours, seven days a week, and Isak tells Even that he doesn’t need to worry about that. Though things can be difficult sometimes, Isak loves _all_ of Even, The trust that they share makes him feel like he doesn’t have to constantly monitor him to ensure that nothing ever goes wrong—he understands that sometimes, even if you take all the precautions possible; things can still happen. Isak tells Even that even if they weren’t soulmates, he would still love all that Even was willing to give, and when Even returns the sentiment, Isak knows that they were without a doubt made from the very same origin—whatever that may have been—for each other and each other only.

When Isak and Even have their first serious fight, Even goes back to his parent’s house for the night and Isak tries desperately not to call him until the morning. Instead, he calls Eskild, because he’s always been someone Isak trusts wholly and completely, and Eskild comes over that night to stay with him. Isak tells Eskild about the argument; about all the things that he had said and all the things that Even had said back, and he cries the whole time. Not because of the cruel things he can remember Even saying, because he knows, he knows that Even didn’t truly mean them—hell, Isak had said some things himself that he certainly didn’t mean during their argument—but because he misses Even with every atom in his whole body. His soul feels like it’s aching, pounding against every one of his organs in an attempt to escape and run out to find it’s other half. Eskild tells him to wait a few hours, give them both a bit of time to cool off, and only then could he call Even. When they make up that very same evening, Isak can’t help but think that Eskild is actually the embodiment of some greater power sent directly from the universe itself in order to help keep Isak and Even on the right track. (He hopes that he gets to do the same for Eskild, too, one day; because if anyone deserves love, it’s Eskild.)

When Isak gets a new opportunity in a new city right before Even gets a job offer in the exact same city, Isak knows that he was right in thinking that he and Even are soulmates. They’ve talked about it before; how everything in their lives since they’ve met each other just seems to align in such a way that it could be nothing but predetermined. There is no way that all the things that have bought them to the place they’re in right now, all the _coincidences_ and _lucky_ opportunities that seem to fall in their paths seem to match so perfectly that there’s no way they can’t be soulmates. The feeling gets stronger and stronger every time they experience something new together, something that shouldn’t have happened by chance, but did anyway.

When Even gets down on one knee on the exact same night that Isak had planned to do the same thing, Isak is certain that he was right in thinking that the person on the other side of their shared bond is most definitely Even. Isak is only a little bit annoyed that Even took the chance before Isak could—he had a very particular plan in place, each action accounted for down to the minute; it couldn’t be helped if Even was more of the spontaneous type who couldn’t help but do it as soon as he saw fit—because no matter who proposes in the end: they are still going to get married. The unadulterated joy Isak feels is so vast that he feels like he could quite possibly burst at any given point, and he sends a silent thanks to whoever is controlling the universe that they’re currently living in for letting them meet each other (again).

When Even gets sick not long after their engagement, Isak thinks that the world is an absolute joke. Why, after all these years of making everything work out so perfectly, so brilliantly, would the universe decide to threaten the very bond that it had created; the bond that has held Isak and Even so closely, supported them so immensely, loved them so effortlessly. Why would it jeopardise something so uncontrollably _great_ after it worked so hard to bring their two souls back to each other?

  


* * *

  


Isak’s heart is in his throat as he sits next to Even’s bed, holding Even’s hand so tightly in his own he’s sure it must be hurting the other man, but Even doesn’t say anything so Isak doesn’t let go—doesn’t so much as loosen his grip.

Even had told him that morning that he thinks today will be the day, and Isak has been fighting back his tears ever since.

It’s far too early for this—Even is barely into his twenties; he has so much of his life left to live. But Isak supposes that the whole situation fits perfectly with the cruel reality that is his own life; he finally finds who he is sure is his soulmate after years of absolute misery, years of complete secrecy as he tried to hide not only the words on his wrist but also the knowledge that the person on the other end of his bond is almost definitely a boy. And yet, they gets taken from each other far before their time.

Isak tries to see the positive in the situation; if Even truly does go today, Isak will finally get the solid confirmation that Even has always been his soulmate, the person who Isak had been destined for—the person who had been destined for Isak—since everything was nothing but stardust. But every time Isak thinks of Even uttering the callous words that have been haunting Isak since the day he began to understand what they mean, he finds the tightness that has been building up in his chest for the past few days begin to stretch thin, the sob that is trapped in his lungs work it’s way ever so slightly higher into his throat before he manages to swallow it down and once again secure the tight rope that’s been threatening to choke him for the past few days. 

Even doesn’t need to see Isak like this, not whilst Even is on his literal death bed; all of Isak’s sombreness can wait, for now.

For the rest of the day, Isak holds Even’s hand. He tells him stories and presses kisses to whatever piece of skin he can reach during any pauses. He tells Even that he loves him, repeatedly, until he is unambiguously certain that Even is sure of it. 

As the day turns into evening, Isak feels his chest pull tighter and tighter as the clock approaches 21:21. He doesn’t know why that particular number feels so powerful, so important, but he does know that the bone-deep dread he is feeling is telling him one thing; Even is going to die soon—and it’s clear that Even can feel it too.

“I love you, Isak,” Even murmurs, voice weak but sentiment strong. “I will always love you, no matter what life we’re living.” Isak chokes out a half-sob, half-laugh, smiling fondly at Even as the first few tears begin dripping down his cheeks, some of his favourite memories of their time spent together flashing through his mind. He allows himself to get lost in his thoughts, finally, staring lovingly into Even’s eyes, picturing the movie of their lives together playing in the pupils of the piercing blue gaze of the man that he loves with every piece of his heart, every piece of his body, every piece of his soul. It’s fitting, he thinks, that his last memory of Even would always be encompassed by this imaginary movie that Isak is picturing, something that captures everything close to Even’s soul all in one.

His crying steadily becomes harder as he feels the hand he’s holding loosen it’s grip, slowly, so agonisingly slowly, as he watches the movie playing in his love’s eyes flicker and dim as his life slowly leaves his body. 

It’s a cruel twist of fate when Isak realises that the words that he had dreaded to hear for his entire life were not the words that left Even’s mouth. The words he had finally made piece with, finally thought could have beautiful implications—so long as they were put in the right context—were suddenly meaningless, completely idle in their existence as he realises that they are not the words that Even had told him right before his heart monitor began wailing a steady alarm. 

He had never thought he’d be so disappointed that somebody hadn’t told him that they don’t want him. 

It must be a joke, Isak thinks, a heartless trick played by the universe—making him think that Even is dead when really, he isn’t—he can’t be—he is Isak’s soulmate but he hasn’t said _those_ words yet—so he can’t be gone—not for real—he still needs to tell Isak—

The arms that wrap around him as he collapses his upper half on top of Even’s still body feel foreign, an unfamiliar strength that he’s never associated with Even. Even had been strong in every way imaginable, but it had always been a sturdy, comforting kind of strength—at least, to Isak—never the powerful kind of pull that he was experiencing now. 

He attempts to flail his arms, hitting at the person holding him up, wishing to be let go so he can throw himself at his soulmate once again, wrap himself in those comforting arms, cry into the safety of his chest. But his body fails him, and all he can manage to do is shake and sob and fall down onto the floor, hugging his own knees but never once taking his eyes off of his fiancé. 

It takes a long time for Isak to understand what has just happened. To acknowledge that the love of his life is dead. To comprehend the fact that Even’s last words were not the words sitting on his wrist. To accept that Even was not his soulmate.

When he hears the doctor calling out that Even’s time of death was 21:21, Isak promises himself—even through the current heaviness of his brain—that he will always remember Even, even if he wasn’t his true soulmate in this universe. He feels like 21:21 was a stolen significance from another universe, a time that doesn’t make sense here, in this one, but a distant promise of something great somewhere else.

He hopes that, in another universe, a different Isak doesn’t have to suffer through the brutal deception this universe has put him through. That he doesn’t have to endure the absolutely agonising heartbreak that this Isak is currently having to live through.

Even had never been Isak’s soulmate, and Isak feels like that is the biggest betrayal of all time.

**Author's Note:**

> BEFORE YOU START HATING ME lol, i wrote this in the beginning notes but i'm gonna write this here too so you understand my ida behind this: so this is based on the prompt 'instead of your soulmate's first words to you being written on your skin, it's the last words you ever hear them say, so you don't know who your soulmate is until you lose them' and i wanted to write this because i liked the idea that even in a universe where Isak and Even aren't meant to be together, they still find their way to each other (even though it kind of sets things up for potential angst but y'know)
> 
> please leave a like/comment if you'd like to to let me know what you think it would really mean a lot to me!! 
> 
> (also please let me know if i've written anything ~wrong~ or you think i should add any tags)
> 
> check out my [tumblr!](https://prettyisak.tumblr.com/)


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